


Button-eyed Cloter

by troot



Category: OCs - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, progress - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 03:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troot/pseuds/troot
Summary: Cloter is a boy who goes to school. Cloter is a boy who collects seashells. Cloter is a boy with ripped jeans, blistered skin, peeled fingers, a scrawny build, a story of life, and he is most importantly, Cloter. This is his life. This is your viewing. || P.S. I love you, I hope you're day isn't too bad and you have a great one in fact. You're really lovely, and you're too rad😎||
Relationships: Semyon/cloter





	Button-eyed Cloter

**Author's Note:**

> This format is strange, I'm sorry!

You studied the window at your side, rather than the page which was unjustifiably crumpled by your sweaty hands. Other than the old little diagrams and detailed drawings, there was no point in directing much thought onto your biology class at the moment. The bell which would tell you to pack your wrinkly bag and carry your ass home was preparing to sing in about, probably less than five minutes. You deeply wanted to sigh at the little lines that stringed to compose letters that were ultimately joined into words that were written in an off wine color. They were bordering the sash of the grimy old window. 'i wonder who wrote that' and 'how long has it been' were the only gibberish to reach your mind. "Hey, Cloter-io was it? Hey, Cloterio." You translated as some tapped your back. Oh. "Yeeass?" You managed to bring out.  
"Gimmie a pencil, please! I've got the most dapper idea." Oh, oh Jesus. You reached into your pencil pouch picking up the finest pencil for this grand idea you've been hearing about. "50 cents?" "Sure- wait what!? You've never charged before, oh whatever happened to the economy?" You breathed out a nervous but content laugh. "Ah jeepers, You know what? It's all free for today." You raise yourself a little higher as to pat your frequent pencil purchaser. "That is quite so epic." You smiled after hearing those words. School wasn't so miserable with the vibe of this one guy in particular. His name, ah, his name was Reynold James Wyatt. Despite the daily minimal interactions you shared, you weren't exactly close friends, although you could be. Oh, but the thought was too stressful.  
You're really just seen as a boring, quiet and reserved kid with oh so many answers to give to on peoples work. Among, other things. "This pencil might actually not be coming back, so excuse me." "That's quite all right." Maybe not dear old Reynolds, perhaps. He seemed to be quite so vibrant and easy, he didn't see or understand the labels others liked to hand out onto eachother, he just saw us as people, he saw me as a person, me. Maybe he could- *brrrrring!* Ah! Schools out for the summer! You felt your little heart dance, so jumpy, so happy, so fuzzy! Your heart called out to fields of butterflies absolutely killing it in your tummy! But then it grew all too heavy. Oh.  
The year of 2004 is a very interesting one, you thought. You hastily picked up your bag. You studied it, the little scratched gem, probably plastic glass, laced around following a path that forms an innocent butterfly, maybe it isn't an innocent butterfly, looks can be deceiving. There was writing, it was possibly the most corny thing, not to mention, the lack of association with butterflies. 'love you to the moon and back.' "Ey, pst, Cloterio!" Reynolds caught your attention in a jar. He made a motion with his hand, oh, bye-bye! You smiled without thought, you sent the motion as well.  
You reached the cranky old doors, poor things, you made sure to pat them. Agh! Your eyes adjusted to the brightness outside, not that the sun was out, the skies were practically blanketed by tin, but it was still all so bright. "Ba ba da da ra ra Roo Roo." You sang to yourself aloud. You weren't particularly happy but you couldn't help it, which made you happy. Ah, little things. You looked down on your boots, muddy old red things, they made you so happy. Red is a nice colour, red stands out. You felt hugged by your black turtleneck, it was so warm, so huggy, so loose though. Maybe you should eat more. Stupid. Oh yes, then your jeans, they had a little rip in the kneecap though, probably from kneeling so much. Agh yikesies.  
Maybe you should paint your nails black, ditch your life and become scene or emo, maybe goth, whatever you feel like. Gay little emo. Gay little emo. "I smell like tires. Tires and, petrol and uhh, cigars!" You stated out loud. Your face flushed at your revelation. Nobody heard, probably.  
You skimmed around, trying to avoid looking anyone in the eyes, not because people suck(well, as a whole) but because it's just so scary. Oh! There it is. You dragged your legs with much effort to that old 7/11, it was like home. "What will it be clotty? Today's special isnit?" "Summer!" You say as you agree. Julie, Julie bettie Weissman, she's your sister at this point, she's always been there. You want to stomp on your heart and feelings thinking about her moving away for college. That'd be quite so awful, would ever see her again? Isn't that until 3 more years? Oh time flies by, you hate it. Shit. Youre forgetting to breathe, make eye contact, stand still, breathe, breathe, breathe. Your por lungd and heart, hace they fused and become all spongey without your permission?  
"Don't keep eye contact if you don't wanna. Now, i have a gift for you." Saint, an angel perhaps? Above that even, Julie, she's Julie bettie Weissman. "Chtroo-chtroo! I present to you, mr.monkey..guy...dude! He sucks his thumb and I don't really know what sound this fella makes but it's probably something, roight? It's a lucky charm, from me to you." She smiled with her words, oh, with her face too, but her usage of words were always so blissfully kind. No, they are so blissfully kind.  
"I've something for you too!, ahh, let me-" as you reached into your pocket, someone came through the door with the most snobby, I hate life and everyone but would cry without attention walk, maybe not really but it was somewhat on point. He looks like he's from school, maybe he's a metalhead too. He grabbed a bag of chips and gracefully slapped it onto the counter for irritation, no smirk, no real ill inent on his face. "3.50, there." His leather jacket made a weird noise, he reached for his receipt. He gave you a look, nothing bad, but awaiting himself to do something, he looked a little sorry, was he going to say something? Did something bad happened? What did I- his face flushed as he tried to look emotionless as he messed and tugged at your earlobe and poked your cheek as he stomped out the store, walking swiftly. You spotted people outside, muffled laughing and teasing, it was hard to hear with the doors closed but easy to note, even with those blurry old worn out eyes of yours.  
Your face was burning hot. You and Julie were both shocked. She wanted to teach the boy a lesson but maybe not in front of you. The silence settles in after a few minutes. "Hf-hear, here." You muster. Julie accepted the button and clay cattepillar crafted by you. "Should we press charges?" "It's.., it's quite all right."  
After paying for a slushie and a bag of the same chips as the boy(which Julie did note) you head to a certain place. A rink, an ice rink. Your favorite rink. Ever.


End file.
